An Incredibly Valuable, Absolutely Worthless Newspaper

By Jason Vines

Many individuals enjoy keeping apparently worthless objects. These items hold special value for their owners, though, because the items serve as reminders of past experiences. Such mementos are physical connections to generally pleasant memories. For example, an “A” project might function as a link to proud recollections of a job well done. Similarly, an old newspaper might inspire fond remembrances of helping to create that newspaper, which is the case for me. My specific newspaper is the October 2000 edition of the Terrace Scroll, the student newspaper produced at my high school, Belleville East. The October 2000 edition of that paper was the first one I helped to produce, and that edition’s final copy will always bring to my mind the childlike joy I experienced while creating the October paper.

Some people might not understand why an old newspaper covering little information of importance today would have any significance whatsoever, but the October 2000 Terrace Scroll has relevance to me. That edition of the Terrace Scroll was the first publication on which I had worked. Prior to that time, my biggest contributions to the written word were short posts on Internet message boards. After joining the staff of the Terrace Scroll, however, I became an assistant editor and a column writer for a widely read school newspaper with hundreds of readers. I wanted to make a good impression on that audience, so I worked very hard on the paper’s production, often staying after school for four or five hours to edit the paper, subjecting every word I read to intense scrutiny. I also spent six to seven hours writing my initial column, straining my bleary eyes to meticulously canvass each sentence, trying to ensure I had every phrase employed to optimum effect. Following the release of the October 2000 Terrace Scroll, my hard work paid off when my friends and teachers eagerly lauded the paper’s superb quality. The praises made me feel prouder than I had ever felt in my life.

That pride led me to keep the October 2000 Terrace Scroll as a memento of the often grueling but ultimately rewarding experience. Now, whenever I look at the old newspaper, I remember the sense of relief I felt at completing the paper after working on it from 3:30 PM to 6 PM every weekday for a solid two weeks. I remember experiencing joy when people I had never seen before walked up to me and complimented me for my column. Additionally, I remember the giddiness with which I opened the paper for the first time to see my words actually in print on the third page. The newspaper served as the first vehicle for my words and my thoughts to reach hundreds of other people, which gave me a sense of power I had not remotely felt prior to that time. Looking at my October 2000 Terrace Scroll reminds me, however, that I still have a long way to go before I can become a real journalist.

The October 2000 paper also reminds me of how far I have come. While working on the Terrace Scroll for the first time, I performed at the behest of the student Editor-in-Chief. Now, I am the Editor-in-Chief, with the power to decide what goes into the paper in what format. While I must answer to the faculty sponsors of the school newspaper, I can, for all intents and purposes, make whatever changes I desire, and my word is essentially final. Later, as I climb further up the scorching, treacherous rock face of the journalistic mountain, taking on responsibilities even more demanding and even more pleasing than leadership of a high school paper, I will still look upon the October 2000 Terrace Scroll with pride, remembering it as the first handhold I successfully grasped. In the far future, when I hope people will speak my name in the same breath as those of Edward R. Murrow and Walter Cronkite, I want to believe my family will keep the paper as an heirloom in remembrance of my success as a journalist.

Regardless of how my family will eventually view the paper, though, I will always regard it with fondness and affection. The October 2000 issue of the Terrace Scroll serves as a physical link to my pleasant memories of working on the paper. Another person might think of the paper as a mere compendium of old news fit for the trash, but to me, the paper is a strong reminder of a proud moment in my past. The memento does not have great value in terms of money or information, but it has unique personal value ascribed by my heart. If I were to lose or damage the memento, nothing could replace it. Perhaps that makes it the most valuable thing of all.